Like The Moon
by Kawaii Kitty
Summary: I just finished reading JTHM: Director's cut and I just HAD to write this. This is about Nny's opinions about himself and mankind. Has a death in it, of course!


Like The Moon  
  
By Kawaii_Kitty  
  
  
  
A young man sat on the hard wooden floor of his heaven in the dead center of hell. His head rested on a stiff dog he found trying to dig up the bodies concealed in his yard. His eyes concentrated on the sky outside of the boarded windows. The night sky was the only thing that could calm this homicidal man. The only thing that could make him cry. The night sky reminded him of the race he lusted to destroy. The stars were so plentiful. Some were beautiful; some were tiny and miniscule, no one noticing that they existed. Then there was the moon. The moon stood out from the stars like a fresh coat of blood on the wall downstairs. The moon was so different from the stars. Perhaps his affinity with the moon was that it reminded him of himself. Alone.  
  
The stars must ridicule the moon for being different. He thought as he moistened his lips with his tongue. The taste of a beloved frozen cherry treat still lingered on his lips. A thumping noise began occurring from the other side of the room where he lay, making him sit up and look to it with an aggravated glare pasted on his yellowish face. Tied to a chair tightly was a young man in glasses with his feet nailed to the floor.  
  
The man on the floor grinned as he suddenly remembered his business with the person in his home as he stumbled to his feet. The man in the chair winced as he shuffled in his feet to make noise and get the attention of the man in the bloodstained shirt. "I still don't see why you picked me out of all the other people in the store! What about that fat guy in aisle five?"  
  
A hand ran across the nearly bald head of the owner of the house as he slowly approached the glasses-clad man. "You mean you don't already know?" He bent down and picked up a rusty, bloodstained knife from the floor, grunting as he worked it loose from the body it was embedded in. "Then perhaps I should tell you. Let us start with the simple facts first." He said calmly, holding up a finger. "First off, you're human." A second finger followed suit to the first. "Second, you took the last bit of the Cherry Brainfreezy."  
  
The man in the chair squirmed uncomfortably. "Look, 'knee' or whatever your name is! I gave you the brainfreezy! Why don't you let me go! Please! I'll give you fifty brainfreezys! Just let me live!"  
  
The one known as Nny closed his eyes and chuckled. "I'm sorry. But I simply cannot let that happen. You know where I live now. You have also been inside my abode. I simply cannot let you live." His eyes opened once more, focusing on the victim in the chair. "Which brings us to the next point." He said as he blew one of his locks of dark hair from his eyes. "Remember what you said to me in the 24/7?" As Nny drew closer still, the person in the chair shook his head, more out of fear than out of knowledge. Nny growled and violently ran the knife across one of the helpless sufferer's face, sneering as he emitted a horrible scream.  
  
Nny glared at the small incision, poignant that the knife hadn't penetrated his skull. "You fucker." He said simply before plunging the knife into his captive's arm. "You called me a wacky, skinny-ass faggot!" He swiftly pulled the knife out of his arm and in one swift movement, slammed it into his thigh. "Not only that. but you used the word 'Wacky'! I HATE THAT WORD!" as he shouted, he pulled the knife back out of his skin, then plunged the knife into his stomach, cackling as blood poured from the mouth of his prey. Nny walked to the doorway that led to his basement and placed his thin hand on a switch, flicking it on. A loud sound like a sword being drawn was heard.  
  
"So what if I'm skinny." Said Nny with more calmness in his voice than he wanted to be there. "I think you already know that. 'Wacky' doesn't even begin to describe what I truly am."  
  
The man in the chair coughed a small amount of thick red blood onto the floor and began to shutter as Nny walked slowly back to him. "P-please don't kill me. I-I'll do anything you want. Honest!"  
  
Another chuckle from Nny told him that wasn't going to be leaving the house alive. "You are going to do what I want you to do. You will be dying. By the way, didn't you say your name was Jack? How terribly ironic." He grunted as he heaved the knife out from the bleeding man's stomach and grinned as he looked the knife over, admiring the shiny coat of blood that had appeared on it. He then kneeled in front of him and in two smooth movements, severed his feet from his legs. The agonized screams of the damned soul echoed through the house, being absorbed by the walls and barely heard by the five year-old next door.  
  
No longer bound by his feet, Jack gave another sickening scream as he tipped his chair onto its side, crying from the sheer hell he was going through. Nny blinked at him and grabbed the back of the chair, pulling it up and dragging it toward the staircase to his basement. Nny then turned the chair so that Jack faced what he knew was going to be his kismet. He felt warm breath on his ear as Nny spoke quietly into it, as if afraid of being heard.  
  
"You see this? Do you see this staircase you ass fucker?" He hissed sadistically, shaking the chair, grinning at the helpless whimpers he heard from Jack. "At the bottom of this particular staircase lie several jagged spikes. I just installed them. Of course, it took the lives of several people to get the spikes actually into the house, but that was a sacrifice I was willing to make."  
  
Through a heavy sob, Jack turned his head to Nny, tears streaming down his blood-specked face. "Wh-why are you doing this.?"  
  
Nny stood up to his full height and placed his foot in front of one of the chair's back legs. "Because. You judged me by my appearance. You saw me, and this is what you got." The smirk quickly disappeared from his face. "Look forward. Look into the dark abyss that is my home, my heart. Learn this lesson quickly, for you have but a few moments left to breathe before you join the collective. What you see is what you get. That darkness down there, that darkness is death's impending arrival." Nny grinned again as his foot swept under the leg of the chair, sending Jack forward, tumbling down the stairs, yelling louder with every step he hit. The thumping of his frail body hitting the stairs finally ceased and the screams died down, replaced with a gargling noise for a moment, then that too died.  
  
Nny looked down into the basement, almost thankful he couldn't see the condition of the person dead at the bottom of his stairs. Without a word, he reached over to the switch and turned it off, hearing the spikes go back into their place in the floor and the sound of wood rustling as the barbs unsheathed themselves.  
  
Nny glanced around his living room, seeing the trails of blood that led to the stairs, and the splatters of the same sticky substance around the feet still nailed to the floor. Nyy looked at this and smiled proudly as he marched back to the spot where he was looking at the moon. He gave the room another glance and chuckled.  
  
"At least I don't have to feed the thing anymore." He said to himself as he lay down and reached to his left, pulling a notebook and a pen toward him. He opened up the notebook and flipped to a clean page, pressing the pen to the paper and scribbling words as he spoke.  
  
"Dear Die-ary." He wrote in his beloved book. "Tonight I discovered something." With another look at the lone moon out the window, he smiled happily, writing something. "I am just like the moon."  
  
A/N: This is my first JTHM story, and I know it sucks. I just got reading the Director's cut this morning, and I just HAD to write a Johnny fic. Please tell me what you thought! If you want more Johnny fics by me, please tell me so, so that I don't feel like a bad writer.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Johnny the Homicidal Maniac. I only own this story and the guy named Jack. Johnny belongs to Jhonen C Vasquez and Slave Labor Graphics. Not me. Okay? DON'T SUE! 


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